Earthquake
by Dreaming-Of-A-Nightmare
Summary: I'm not all right when you go, I'm not fine. I am all yours, so please be all mine. .:. Dave breaks down, and all because of one Kurt Hummel. .:. rated T for Dave's potty mouth, and this is NOT a songfic. spoilers for 2x06 through 2x08.


**A/N: Oh, how rock music inspires me.**

**This time, I'm thinking of 'Earthquake' by The Used, because most of the song applies, but I keep thinking of the lyrics in specific, "'Cause baby, I'm not all right when you go, I'm not fine; please be all mine. I never want you to go, 'cause I am all yours, so please me all mine…" And then the phrase, "Have I murdered our love?" just gets to me. C:**

**Also, the inspiration came from the buildup of the past three Glee'sodes (2x06, 2x07, 2x08). Especially the most recent (2x08), of course. That's why this faved rock song suddenly had new meaning to me. XD**

**This is in Dave's POV. And it's a little rambly on purpose. ;3**

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I think I'm breaking.

It's something I never thought I could apply to myself. Big, strong, solid, tough, bullying _me, _Dave fucking _Karofsky, _sitting here and _breaking?_

It sounds as foreign as aliens invading the cowboys. But that's a movie coming out soon, isn't it? So I guess this territory must not be quite as strange as I thought.

Huh.

But it feels _wrong._ Sick and warped and fucking _sordid,_ a word I picked up from my mother that totally fits this situation.

I shouldn't break.

But it's happening little by little, isn't it? I'm falling to pieces, my resolve and my reputation and my alliances and even my _morals;_ or, at least, what little I have left of them.

It aches. It bends and twists and shrivels up and _dies,_ like a slug with salt drizzled over its slimy skin. I can literally feel my insides contort and writhe, as if my body were turning into a werewolf. No, that's not accurate. It's more like I'm turning into Mr, Hyde, except I'm normally not as nice as Dr. Jackyl, so this won't end well.

Not.

At.

_All._

And I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to do. I feel lost and confused and torn up and spit out.

And all because of _one damn person._

Why can't he stay out of my thoughts? Out of my school? Out of my _life?_

But that's just the thing, isn't it? I don't want him to leave. I keep pushing and pushing him, both literally and metaphorically, into lockers and onto the brink. And I finally broke him. Kurt's terrified of me, and I'm not sure I like that, but I still make his heart race and his muscles tense and that's enough for me.

I could feel it, then. When I stopped him at his locker and zoned in, locking gazes and keeping him right where I wanted him. I even smiles, because he didn't move. He stayed there, looking at me, and I could feel his breath come out in short gasps and as I pressed a finger to his chest and gently stroked downward, I could feel his thudding heartbeat and his shuddering muscles. I knew that I gave him goosebumps, and that thrilled me. I could smell him when I was so close, and I decided to take something from him to keep a piece of him even closer.

It was a wedding cake topper. Is his old man getting married? It didn't matter. I held onto it like I still hold onto his scarf.

But things just got worse. I didn't see half of them coming. Like his father charging me, pinning me to the cork board, and _Dammit,_ I thought, _Isn't this guy supposed to be recovering from something? How did he move so fast, how can he feel so strong?_ This isn't some sissy. Kurt might be, but his dad is far from it.

I didn't want to hurt Mr. Hummel. I didn't fight back. Hurting a man with graying hair… what was one of my lingering morals. Don't hurt adults. Don't mess with parents or teachers. I'm younger and more spry, and I know it.

But Kurt got his father off of me. I looked at him before fleeing. Doesn't Kurt hate me? Wouldn't he want his father to hurt me? But maybe not. Maybe he doesn't want his dad tossed into jail on some charge against him, most likely made by my own father.

But it didn't end there. My dad got called later, and _he_ was there with his father, and it was the four of us in Principal Sylvester's office, father-son, father-son, left staring at one another.

I could taste the fear and anger and worry and overall _stress_ radiating off of each of us, filling the blank spaces in the small room and overwhelming me. All the while, Kurt couldn't keep his eyes off of me. I felt the pressure of his gaze, the intensity in his eyes, the hatred and fear and _oh, how I want him,_ but I can't show it here, never here, not with my dad – civil, oddly calm – and his dad – furious, seeking justice – in the room. And Sue Sylvester overlooking it all.

I make up lame excuses. I panic inwardly, cold, unsettling coals sinking to the pit of my stomach like a fire iced over with sleet. I shiver in my own skin, but no one notices, thank God. And I can barely look at Kurt, and I feel downright _naked_ without my letterman jacket.

The flaming arrows strike me in the form of questions. Poking, prodding questions I try to brush off. "Maybe he likes me," I joke, but the joke falls flat even as I say it, my tone ruining it. I glance at Kurt, and he looks annoyed and wanting to stab me for the remark. I don't blame him. I knew it was a mistake, because between us, I think he knows that the "joke" can be translated to, _"Maybe I like him."_

And that's when Sue says it, officially shattering me.

The words barely touch me. They reach me at a cross-breeze, a stunned feeling washing over me. "Hereby expelled…" and "take it up with the school board…" and "leave the premises immediately…"

I don't know why, but it really hurts. It guts me open, my intestines on display. I walk past Kurt, and I can't help let slip the feeling of anguish, the expression of, _how could you do this to me when I haven't hurt you in a week, and I actually might love you,_ showing on my face.

And then I leave.

And my dad finds it unfair, and in a controlled rage (his voice taunt, his teeth clenched), he appeals to the school board, arguing in my favor, and when I return to school…

He isn't there.

Kurt Hummel – _my obsession, my center of torment, my secret crush, the source of my conflicted feelings_ – is gone. He _isn't there._

I find Finn Hudson and shove him up against a locker. It doesn't hurt him; I make sure not to hurt anybody any longer. I haven't the strength. I'm broken.

"Why isn't he here?" I say. I've been back for three days now, and that's far too long for Kurt to be simply home sick. He must be somewhere else. "Where is he?"

"Who are you talking about, man? Let go of me!"

I only have Hudson by his shirt collar. He could easily break free if he really wanted to. I feel the prickle of tears in the back of my eyes. I don't let it show. Not here, not now. School's in session, and I have to uphold at least some of my façade. I have to, like I did when Kurt and his little boyfriend confronted me after that damned kiss. I was vulnerable for a moment, but I quickly slid into my mask and tackled the prettyboy. Like I'm doing to Hudson now.

"Kurt," I grind out, his name painful on my tongue. "Kurt Hummel. Where is he?"

Finn scowls. "He left, and all on account of _you_, asshole. He transferred to Dalton Academy and now our Glee Club has to face his – a former _teammate_ of ours, a concept even you can understand – at Sectionals, and it's all your damn fault!" And he breaks out of my grip and glares at me.

"He… transferred?" I say, my voice quiet. The other footballer looks momentarily surprised that I'm not furious.

He nods his head once, roughly. "_Yeah._ He knew you were coming back, and he didn't want to be here when you did. Our parents sacrificed their _honeymoon_ money to do it, too! And all because you just wouldn't stop fucking with him! Why'd you do it, man? And why do you want him here, just to inflict more pain on him? You're such a douchebag! I should hit you!"

I back up a little. "No, I don't… I wouldn't hurt him… not anymore…" I mutter, and my fists clench. Angrily, I add, "I just _need_ him here, okay? You tell him – you tell him to come back, Hudson. He _has_ to be here. I can't – I won't –"

I can't live without him. I won't do anything to him, if he only transfers back. I…

Hudson yells something at me, something about Kurt having every right to get away from me, and how even if he tells his stepbrother to come back he knows Kurt won't as long as I'm here.

And that's when I crumble.

Scorching tears escape my barriers and trickle down my face, and Finn stops short, staring blankly at me, possibly wondering how I'm capable of producing them. But even bullies can cry, doesn't he know that?

He reaches out to me – Hudson is too nice sometimes for his own good – and asks what's wrong with me.

I bat his hand away, cursing loudly, and I storm off. I hate this. I hate myself. And I hate how right my dad had been at that meeting; I _have_ been changing. I used to get great grades – A's and B's – and I used to be at the top of the world, surrounded by hockey fans at our school and girls who wanted to date me, even if none of them really interested me much. And then _he_ came and ruined it all.

Kurt Hummel ruined me. He soiled all that I built to have, and even though I was a bit of a jerk to the nerds and gleeks before, it only got worse because of him. Without meaning or wanting to, I got a little too interested in the fag and I fucking had to go and _fall in love with him._

And now I'm all messed up, because I want to grab him and bring him close to me and have him love me back, but at the same time, I want to shove him away and make him hate me, just so I can crush these… these… _feelings._

I don't want to be gay. I don't want to be jealous of how comfortable he is with himself. I don't want Finn Hudson to piece everything together and realize _why_ I did what I did and _why_ I desperately desire Kurt back at school so badly and _why_ I thought any of this would turn out okay.

But we never get what we want.

And now everybody knows, and I'm left wondering what I should do.

I'm breaking bit by bit, and no one cares because I'm the cruel, abusive guy in school, some macho meathead with an inferiority complex.

And now I want to know: can I have a second chance? Can I change things, as fucked up as they've become?

Can I turn my grades around? Stop harassing kids? Be _pleasant?_

And if I do, would he find out?

Would he come back to school? Would he talk to me? Would he _forgive_ me?

I don't know. But I'm so shattered that I might consider it.

What more have I got to lose?

After all, earthquakes like Hummel might ruin and break things like me apart and make them shatter, but there's always a chance for rebuilding afterward. Right?

…Right?


End file.
